


you've lost that lovin feeling

by Cat Harvelle (londoneyedgirl)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Songfic, a bit i think, also its a, i dont even know, im sorry im really sorry guys, its like minor elounor bc i cant ship it to save my life, its mostly flashback idk, this is so angsty ugh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/londoneyedgirl/pseuds/Cat%20Harvelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And now, Harry is hurting so deeply he might just stay in bed until the mattress swallows him up and it feels like his existence was only a dream, a bad one. He’s not depressed, not really. He’s just really sad, and feeling homesick, and feeling just so lonely and rejected and… Not enough.<br/>(He thinks sadness is so overwhelming, that maybe that’s how the world will end. Drowned in sadness.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've lost that lovin feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Um, this is the first 1D piece I've ever wrote and I'm pretty sure it sucks, but... It means a lot to me, I don't know how to explain why. Also, I just got my invitation! So I wanted to post something here and here it is! Also, I want to warn you guys that english is definitely not my main language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes because this is also unbeta'd. So, if you see any mistake, feel free to point it out to me so I can improve my writing!  
> If you wanna contact me, you can find me on tumblr (stroynter) or on livejournal (londoneyedgirl).  
> Hope you guys like it!

Harry has always loved vinyl records. It’s something he got used to it when he was a child, when his mum would sit with him and play some old songs, and he liked to sing with her, to see her smile and the happy look in her eyes when she looked at him. And when he grew up, he kept listening to vinyl records, never stopping looking at new ones. Of course he had a stereo, but it just wasn’t the same.  
  
And now, Harry is hurting so deeply he might just stay in bed until the mattress swallows him up and it feels like his existence was only a dream, a bad one. He’s not depressed, not really. He’s just really sad, and feeling homesick, and feeling just so lonely and rejected and… Not enough.  
  
(He thinks sadness is so overwhelming, that maybe that’s how the world will end. Drowned in sadness.)  
  
He’s listening to some old vinyl records, trying to forget everything that happened last night. But it doesn’t help like he thought it would, it just makes him remember it even more. He doesn’t want to remember, but he doesn’t stop himself, either way. His mind keeps replaying that moment again and again.  
  
 _Start of Flashback_  
  
He’s sitting on the couch, watching a ‘Doctor Who’ rerun just because there wasn’t many things to do. He’s waiting for Louis to come back to their flat, and he knows – oh, how he knows – that if Louis was still going to come home by now, he would be drunk off his ass, and then Harry would help him and give him a small lecture about how he shouldn’t be drinking and how worried he made him. Then, Louis would look guilty and regretful and say he’s sorry; just to go out the next night again and do the same thing one more time.  
  
Harry had almost gotten used to that cycle.  
  
But he would never be ready for what happens this time.  
  
Harry hears the noise of a key pressing into the lock and then he hears the door opening. He turns around, on his knees on the couch, to just see if Louis would need help as he did every night. But as said previously, he wasn’t ready for this.  
  
Louis is drunkenly kissing a brunette up against the wall, his hands shamelessly slipping inside her dress and gripping on her thighs, on her ass; everything. Harry thought he would be ready for everything, but –obviously – he wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready for Louis almost fucking Eleanor in front of him. He keeps watching them, waiting for the moment that one of them notices. And it takes really fucking long for that to happen, ‘cause when it does, Eleanor’s legs are already around Louis’ waist, his hips thrusting against hers just to cause friction. She looks to the side when he starts kissing her neck and that’s when she notices Harry standing there, his eyes a bit watery (she doesn’t notice this, though. She’s as drunk as Louis.)  
  
Still, she stops responding to Louis, making him notice Harry too. But Louis doesn’t seem regretful, not even slightly guilty. He looks at the green-eyed boy and smirks. He fucking smirks.  
  
Eleanor unwraps her legs from around Louis’ waist and he tells her to go to his room, he tells her that he’ll be there in a minute, “it won’t take long”. She nods and walks tripping on her own feet to the room, and then she disappears inside of it. Louis still smirks, walking towards Harry. “What are you still doing up?”, he asks and Harry is so strong but he feels so weak right now. He knows he should be stronger but “I was worried about you” happens and he now he can’t take it back. Louis’s already heard it.  
  
“There’s no need to it, I’m with Eleanor. There’s no one better than her for me to be with.” Louis winks at Harry and the smirk is still fucking there and all Harry wants is to that smirk to go away. He wants the smirk to go away with that Louis, and he wants his Louis to come back to him because he can’t fucking take it anymore.  
  
“You know you don’t need to do this, Louis. Why are you with her? You don’t even love her.” Harry says bitterly, his chest hurting as much as his hands because he’d unconsciously curled his hands into fists and his nails were digging into the flesh of his palms. Louis lifts one his eyebrows as he laughed; but it was no longer his laugh. It was a laugh from someone Harry didn’t know, it was hurtful, disturbingly veracious.  
  
He didn’t know Louis anymore.  
  
“And who should I be with? You? What makes you think I love you?” The look in Louis’ eyes was full of loathing, of pity, of disgust, and although Harry knows Louis is really drunk, it still hurts. And then he laughs again. “Thanks, Styles. I really needed to have a laugh before fucking my girlfriend. She’s so wet for me; I can almost smell her from here.” His eyes are cold as ice, hard as a stone. “That’s what I like. Not you; her.” And he gives turns his back to Harry, who just waits until Louis is inside his room to finish what he started with his girlfriend.   
  
And though he knew it was all lies before, he’s really starting to believe them now.  
  
Harry feels numb for a bit. He turns the TV off, and then he goes to his room and sits on his bed, hearing every moan, every gasp coming from the room beside his. Then, he chooses a vinyl record (he doesn’t actually choose, he just grabs one from his ‘favorite’ pile without even reading the name of it) and starts hearing. It helps him at ignoring the noises of the one he loves fucking someone else.  
  
He lies on his bed and he cries as he listens vinyl after vinyl and his chest is aching and his stomach hurts because he hasn’t eaten anything for more than six hours and he thinks about starving himself to death but it would hurt even more so he doesn’t. It’s 9am when he gets out of his room and particularly he doesn’t know if Louis is still at their flat, and though he certainly doesn’t want to see Louis, he doesn’t get himself to bother to think about all the if’s and maybe’s.  
  
He goes to the kitchen and slowly makes himself tea. He gets some chocolate chip cookies, grabs his tea and goes back to his room. He no longer cries, he just eats and thinks and wonders and doesn’t answer his phone. He doesn’t want to make the boys worry about him, but he decides that he’ll be selfish and he’ll put himself on top of everything for the first time in his life, contrary to popular belief.  
  
He doesn’t check on his phone to see who has called, he just puts his phone inside his wardrobe and lets the songs he’s hearing mute down the calls. He’s not aware of when the calls stop, and he’s not aware of how the time passes so quickly. He kind of just wakes up from his haze when he looks outside his window and sees that it’s already night. He goes for his phone and while he hears some Elvis, he throws himself on the bed, checking his missed calls.  
  
There are two from Niall, one from someone from management, five from Liam, three from Zayn, two from his mom and…  
  
19 missed calls from Louis Tomlinson.  
  
Harry tries to suffocate that undeniably stupid hope that starts growing inside his chest, he even lies down on the process, until he finally convinces himself that the whole band started calling him from only Louis’ phone and that’s why it had so many calls from him.  
  
And because he feels dirty for not taking a bath during the whole day, he goes to his bathroom and prepares himself a bath. He takes his clothes off slowly, first his shirt, then his sweatpants, then he takes his socks off (it was really cold, even colder than the usual for an unknown reason) and then he takes off his boxers. He steps into the tub and sits in it. The water is warm and relaxing, and for the few moments he stays in there, his head resting on the wall as the water washes off his pain just for a bit, he feels safe.  
  
He knows he can’t stay there forever, so he gets out of the tub, wraps his towel around his hips and empties the bathtub. He grabs his dirty clothes from the floor, where he had left it, and puts it on the pile of dirty laundry. Then, he goes to back to his room, puts on some clothes (a sweatshirt and a jeans, though he’s not going out) and lies on his back on the bed and listens to more old songs.  
  
 _End of Flashback_  
  
And that’s how Harry got himself into hearing some The Righteous Brothers songs. His eyes are closed as he listens to it and it feels so good because it’s one of his mom’s favorite singers and it makes him remember of home. And, surprisingly, it makes him less homesick.  
  
The music is so loud he doesn’t hear when the door opens and he doesn’t feel Louis’s presence when the latter walks into his room. ‘You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling’ is now playing and Harry likes hearing the song without actually singing along with it, so he just mouths the song that somehow fits with him... and Louis.  
  
"You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips,  
And there’s no tenderness like before in your fingertips.  
You’re trying hard not to show it,  
But baby, baby I know it."  
  
Louis walks to the edge of Harry’s bed and hits his foot lightly on it. It’s enough for Harry’s eyes snap open. First he looks at Louis with a wild mix of hurt, apprehension, nervousness. Instead of stopping his mouth and forgetting about the song, Harry starts singing the song for Louis. His voice is smooth, a little bit husky from barely speaking the whole day.  
  
"You’ve lost that lovin’ feeling,  
Whoa, that lovin’ feeling.  
You’ve lost that lovin’ feeling,  
Now it’s gone, gone, gone, whoa..."  
He sits up on the bed, his eyes never leaving Louis’, that were filled with regret and shame. He looked miserable, to say the least. His hair was a mess; he had dark bags under his eyes and his nose was a little puffy red. A beanie on his head to trying to hide the mess, and his clothes looks the sloppiest.  
  
Did he remember what he said?  
  
Harry gets up and walks to Louis, as slowly as his apprehension was letting him. He was afraid Louis would tell him something worst than what he said before (and though Harry would like to think that that was the last time Louis told him something like that, he knows it isn’t true).  
  
"Now there’s no welcome look in your eyes when I reach for you,  
And you’re starting to criticize little things I do.  
It makes me just feel like crying,  
‘Cause baby, something beautiful is dying."  
  
By now Harry has his hands carefully on Louis’ waist, and it’s almost instantaneously when Louis places his hands on Harry’s shoulders, and then he wraps his arms around Harry’s neck. Harry’s fingers are delicate on his waist, and when a tear goes down Louis’ cheek, he lifts one of his hands to brush it off with his thumb. For Louis, it feels somehow startling, because it’s gentle and sweet and he was sure that Harry would hit him hard in the face when he got back.  
  
"You’ve lost that lovin’ feeling,  
Whoa, that lovin’ feeling.  
You’ve lost that lovin’ feeling,  
Now it’s gone, gone, gone, whoa..."  
  
And he wouldn’t blame Harry if he did it.  
  
"Baby, baby, I’d get down on my knees for you,  
If you would only love me like you used to, yeah.  
We had a love, a love, a love you don’t find every day,  
So don’t, don’t, don’t let it slip away."  
  
And then Harry leans down, his soft, pinky lips brushing lightly against Louis’, and it feels wonderful. It’s something they’ve never felt before, when they’re properly kissing now and their tongues dance inside each other’s mouths. Louis steps on the tip of his toes and Harry smiles into the kiss because now, Louis’s so tiny next to him.  
  
"Bring back that lovin' feelin',  
Whoa, that lovin' feelin'  
Bring back that lovin' feelin',  
'Cause it's gone...gone...gone,  
and I can't go on, woah-oh-oh-oh"  
  
He feels Louis’ fingers inside his hair, his short nails scratching lightly on his scalp. It’s the most sign of affection he’s had from Louis in a long, long time. He lets his arms embrace Louis completely, pressing the older one against his chest. Then, he pulls back a bit because of course, they need to breath.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Louis breaths out and Harry looks inside his eyes, green meeting blue. “I’m so sorry, you have no-” Harry bites on his bottom lip before interrupting Louis.  
  
“No, you’re not.” His voice is harsh; his eyes are too serious for him. There’s still love in them, for sure, but Harry doesn’t want to be Louis’ doll anymore. When Louis finally gets his shit right and wants Harry for the rest of his life, Harry will be there, waiting for him. But for now… “At least, not enough.” And then Harry takes his arms away from Louis, and then he lays on his bed, looking at the man in front of him, his hands behind his head as he looks completely distressed. “You can go, now.” And that’s the last thing he says to Louis before Louis gets out of his room, feeling used.  
  
Louis knows – oh, how he knows – that that’s probably how he made Harry feel, and he wants to apologize over and over again, though he knows Harry won’t accept it without complete assurance that they’re gonna be together.  
  
And for that to happen, Louis has a lot to do.


End file.
